


Winter Solitude

by owlofathena



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/F, Gen, Winter
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-16
Updated: 2014-02-16
Packaged: 2018-01-12 17:20:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,032
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1193376
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/owlofathena/pseuds/owlofathena
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hermione walks alone in the school grounds during early winter. Hints at mild MMHG.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Winter Solitude

**Author's Note:**

> I'm cross-posting some updated fics to AO3 because the system is so much better than FFN for downloading to readers and third-party software really hasn't been working of late.

The lake was frozen over with ice, gleaming in the afternoon sun that peeked through the dull grey clouds. The black tree-boughs were heavy with the newly fallen snow; winter had come later than usual this year but with as much force as ever. Most reasonable students were safely indoors, huddled under blankets and sipping hot cocoa, but Hermione was determined to get her weekend exercise, snow and ice be damned.

The crackling of autumn leaves had been replaced with the crunching and creaking of moist snow beneath her feet. Hermione's woolen scarf had come unbound from her neck, one of the ends fanning out behind her in the slight breeze. She hadn't bothered to stop and re-wind it around her neck, the warmth of the sun provided enough of a barrier to keep the chill off of her skin.

Ah. Sun. That was the last step.

'And divide the potion into three measured containers and set out in the sunlight for no less than five revolutions of the sand-timer before immersing each into a separate cauldron,' she said aloud to the stillness of the white forest, her breath visible in the cold air.

But what type of sand-timer was she supposed to be using?

Hermione stopped mid-step.

Half an hour?

Three hours?

She was almost certain it had had a three in it.

Hermione looked up at the nearest white-blanketed oak, frowning at the tree as if the woody dicot was to blame for her memory lapse. An owl nestled in a hole in the trunk peered back down at her through slitted eyes, fluffing its feathers in indignation at having been spotted.

It couldn't be three minutes, could it?

She resumed her journey towards the lake, hands shoved deep into her coat pockets to warm up her chilled fingers. It wasn't often that her mind refused to give her the correct answer. And Hermione had been sure that walking alone, free from the distractions of the dormitory and its perpetually boisterous inhabitants would provide her with perfect environment for recall.

Sundays were, by far, the loudest days of the week. Snape's ridiculously difficult potions test for the seventh-years was tomorrow and her classmates had suddenly realized that they were in serious danger of flunking their Potions class if they didn't catch up on six weeks of studying by Monday. Ron and Harry were in this compromising position (really, she had warned them repeatedly about the approaching test) and had declined her assistance in preparing for it, although they had accepted her review notes.

Hermione had arrived at the shoreline of the lake, a rocky outcropping facing the castle on the far side of the water. The steep hills dropped straight into the dark depths with no beach to separate the two, with only the odd ledge of rough hewn granite breaking the repetition of smooth cliff. She walked to the edge, careful not to slip on the icy-patches and partially melted snow that the sun had softened.

It was several moments before Hermione noticed the familiar-looking cat lying on a large rock not ten feet away, sunning itself with its eyes closed.

A thought struck her.

'Professor McGonagall?' she said tentatively, after a moment's internal debate over whether to disturb the animal from its rest.

The cat turned its head to look at Hermione, the tip of its tail twitching as it rolled onto its haunches. A moment later, there was a muffled pop similar to that of a wizard Apparating, and an enviably composed Deputy Headmistress of Hogwarts was sitting serenely on the rock where the cat had been only mere seconds earlier.

'Miss Granger.'

Hermione backed up a pace, heat rising in her cheeks.

'I'm sorry, I didn't mean to intrude.'

'Not at all,' McGonagall said, 'I was merely enjoying the silence.'

Hermione's expression must have betrayed her confusion.

'Professor Dumbledore claimed that I was working too hard and refused to leave until I had vacated my office,' McGonagall elaborated, inclining her head in the direction of the castle. 'I escaped and came here to avoid the inevitable berating that he would have given me had he learned that I spent the whole of last night marking papers.'

At this, she stood and stretched, her slender frame arching upwards in a movement that was eerily reminiscent of her feline form.

'Aren't you cold?' Hermione blurted out, marvelling that the slim woman was able to maintain a normal thermal temperature in her robes without the protection of a cloak or jacket.

Dark eyes met her own, clearly amused.

'This is a gentle winter compared to others we've received in Scotland, Miss Granger.'

As if on cue, a sudden rush of cold air from across the lake blew Hermione's hair across her face and shot through her clothes, sending a sharp chill straight into her bones. Hermione shivered, the tail-end of her scarf dancing wildly as it was seized by the wind.

Walking over, McGonagall caught the loose end of Hermione's scarf and, very gently, wrapped the thick cloth back around the Hermione's exposed neck, carefully avoiding trapping any of the curling strands of hair that were whipping around them.

'It wouldn't do for you to catch a cold, Miss Granger,' she whispered into Hermione's ear as she tucked the end of the scarf into the top of her coat. 'I wouldn't want you to miss one of my classes, would I?'

A warm flush rose in Hermione's cheeks. Heat seemed to be radiating from the area of her chest where her teacher's hand was still resting.

The corners of McGonagall's mouth tilted upwards briefly, her dark eyes dancing at the look on Hermione's face. With one last nod at her student, she turned and began treading gracefully across the snow-covered rock, disappearing into the gathering flurries of snow, her long robes swirling about her slender frame.

Hermione stood at the edge of cliff for several minutes before shaking her head to clear it of confusing thoughts. Giving up her potions review as a lost cause, she made her way back up the sloping grounds to the castle, her mind full of sand-timers, scarves and low murmurs in her ear.


End file.
